Speaking in Stitches

Kneeling at the bedside
I beg you
To tell me a story.
With the tiny hairs of my skin brushing yours
I bathe in the sweet scents of memories.

I shut my eyes
And I see
Two cups...
Steam drifting from their hot surfaces.
One chocolate...
One vanilla...
Both sinking slowly into each other
With a warmth and comfort
More powerful than any that you find
In dreams.

I know it's strange
But,
I've sipped from both cups.
Opened my mouth
And put my lips to both edges
What a marvelous blend...
Sweet potion like the music in my ears.
An ethereal liquid
Like magic medicine of few days past...
And I'm still so high.

It's been too long since
I've touched skin the way
I am right
Now.
Lights of vibrant hues shimmer
Signaling the start of a return mindtrip
Full of feeling.
An orgy of the senses...
Like that of
A 12:06 A.M. kiss by the water's edge
On a cold, cold night.

You've given a
Name and phrase
To every sense
In me.
And until I sense you again
I can only wait for the next memory...
And go to bed...
To rest with
Your words,
My tears,
This familiar melody in my ears,
And the indelible
Smile on my face.

(Written December 27, 2003)